Uplifted: Rise
by DarkDanny
Summary: Uplifted Expanded Universe: Technology, Money, Power, Strength. Reinhardt 'John' Hoch's outlook on life is far different then his Father's. Whether that is good is still undetermined. One thing is for certain: He is the face and voice of the new human future. God help the waiting Galaxy.
1. End of Eras

**Hello and welcome to Uplifted: Rise.**

**This will be an intermediary story between the Uplifted and the next generation set with Adam Ackerson as the main protagonist. This one will feature John Hoch and set up his character. This story will be different. It will not one story, but two in one. **

**The first story is the standard beginning to end. Starting in May 1996, it maps the road to friendship built between John Hoch and Adam Ackerson. It will explain how Adam got to his position as caretaker to Hanala and Joachim, as well as establish his background as well. **This story will be told in normal print.

**The second story is less conventional. It will jump about between 1978 to April 1996. It will be solely dedicated to John Hoch and the rise of Daedalus Industries, his relationship with his family, his relationship with his friends. This story will be very different from the first. Lots of 1980's partying, having fun and doing business in nearing the end of the Cold War world. **_This story will be solely written in italics._

**We'll see how long this story is. I'm looking at twelve chapters, but we'll see how popular seeing how a quarian influenced 1980's is welcomed, lol.**

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**Chapter One: Ending Eras**

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_July 7__th__ 1978_

_The jungles of Argentina were burning for a week straight now. _

_Fortress Redoubt had been the largest stronghold belonging to the former Nazis, turned fascist revolutionary mercenaries known to the world as Paladin Group. Responsible for battling the spread of communism across the world since 1948, the events in Vietnam and Mexico had been the tipping point against them._

_Ernst Kaltenbrunner, head of Paladin Group had overplayed his hand and waged guerrilla war on not just on the North Vietnamese, but in the west as well. Kaltenbrunner, who hated the United States and all it stood for, had decided it was time for the meddling United States to see first-hand what happened to countries neighbouring warzones after hearing about the American interference into his wars against Southeast Asia._

_The result was terrifying. Mexicans across the country revolted an overthrew the democratically elected government, their army battled for control of the cities, with mixed success. Radicalized Mexican fascists, angered at the United States for their territorial absorbing of the American southwest, declared war resulting in border scrimmages and raids from both sides of the border. Thousands died, tens of thousands were wounded or displaced._

_All in all it was enough of a motivator to finally deal death blows to the Paladin Group after aligning themselves with them for decades against the scourge of communism. A multinational response force was set up to handle the group. Enemies became friends with a singular goal, the eradication of the last unrepentant, battling Nazi survivors and their new followers. _

_The United States and Canada crossed the border into Mexico and in a matter of months, had the country mostly under control. Special Forces units from the US, Germany, UK and the Quarians raided bases and training grounds from Spain to Central and South America in order to pacify the newly designated Fascist militants. _

_In the end the Siege on Fortress Redoubt ended with the eradication of last holdouts of Paladin. The survivors of the worldwide network exiled themselves, presumably to the Fascist Union of Nations. _

_The fate of those holdouts did not matter to the last survivors of the attack. Hidden away by the co-founder of Paladin Group, Otto Skorzeny, it was nearly two weeks before his daughter Waltraut, and his student Reinhardt Hoch came out of hiding to survey the destruction left by the massive assault. They did not locate Otto's body. He and the rest of the true National Socialist fighters were likely taken away and paraded before the eyes of the world as proof that they ended the nationless menace._

_The apparent death of her did not seem to her. They had bigger things to do. Namely was to dig up the barrels of Nazi gold and international currency Skorzeny had accumulated over the years following his involvement in the war and mercenary work. Something Waltraut had declared half his._

_The two of them had been partners since 1972 once her Father finished training him. Together they waged war across Southeast Asia, Behind the Soviet Union's lines and in Central and South America. It was almost a kinship, with the occasional moment of sexual tension. Waltraut tried her hardest to keep the older sister image over him in order to keep John and his twenty year old voracious sexual appetite from consuming her._

_It worked… most of the time._

_But that was years ago. They had both matured as the constant warfare consumed their lives. There was only war for John Hoch. He hadn't spoken to his family in over six years now; both too busy and reluctant to tell his parents just why he ran away shortly after watching his brother Gerald die in the opening shots of the second Germanic-Soviet War._

_Heaving heavily, he slumped into the mud as they finished loading the last of Waltraut's cut into the back of one of the few remaining working cargo trucks. Before he knew he was splashed in the face by mud as Waltraut jumped off the back of the vehicle and took a seat next to him._

"_Are you certain you want to do this?" John inquired, wiping the mud off his face. "I mean, not that I am complaining. Not by any means. It just seems like a lot."_

_Unbothered by the mud, Waltraut took a seat next to him, her arm wrapping around John's shoulder as she shook him back and forth. The expression on her face radiated a grin. It was most peculiar considering that her Father was dead._

"_You and I made a deal when we first started working together. Everything we earned, we split it fifty/fifty, and that includes whatever my Father left behind," she reminded him._

_Her free hand gestured to the barrels loaded into the truck, then to the dozen barrels sitting next to the bunker they had been hiding in. His share John groaned inwardly at all the labour he was about to endure. Why in the hell couldn't old man Skorzeny open a Swiss bank account like any normal morally dubious man?_

"_I didn't realize your Father was a job like any other." John muttered as he dug into his pocket for the last of his cigarettes. Next to him he heard the woman snort._

"_Are you kidding me? Father spent years terrorizing the both of us by his training and sending us on assignments that nearly got us killed. We earned this tenfuckingfold," She stated, standing up to look down on her partner. She paused for a moment as John looked up to her, cigarette between his lips. "Besides," she added, smiling softly, "Father died without a son. The two of you fought like family and he liked you despite your heritage. He'd want you to have it. He'd want you to take the money and do something big with it." _

_John couldn't help it. He smiled from behind his cigarette. Waltraut extended her hands out and took John's, forcing him back up. She took his cigarette and had a drag for herself. Pushing his hand over his buzzed hair, he could not help himself. He always had to speak. It got him in trouble quite often._

"_Surprised you're not more upset about all of this," He spoke aloud, watching as she flinched. "I mean… this is everything you've ever known since you were little. In a couple hours it's wiped right out, not to mention your Father is gone. God knows where they took him." _

_He fell silent as he took the cigarette back from Waltraut, whose dark eyes stared at him intently. She appeared at a loss for words for what he said. That or she was carefully choosing how she worded a response to him. Her hand slipped down to her pistol belt and gripped it carefully. It was one of her few nervous ticks._

"_I had two weeks of hiding to deal with my grief," She replied softly as seemed to force her voice to remain as solid as possible. "My Father taught me that in a situation such as this, there are only two reactions we can feel: laughter or tears. I chose laughter, nature's anesthetic… tears... they just hurt too much."_

_Smiling as she sniffled, she looked back up to him with a crooked expression._

"_My Father was a good man in a bad position," Waltraut concluded. "Not all of us get second chances, John Hoch. Not all of us get a choice."_

_She turned away, leaving John pondering what she said. Yes… not many had the luck his Father had. Not many got to choose their own path like John had. This was something he volunteered to do. Waltraut was nearly born into her role as another soldier for her father to deploy to the worldwide conflict zones. She would have likely traded each dollar of her ne fortune to have taken the childhood that John had._

_Ashamed, John followed her as she wandered over to the barrels holding his cut of the money. Her hand banged against the each of the lids as she appeared to have been inspecting them._

"_Let's see. You will walk away with three hundred pounds of gold bullion, fifty million US, five million pound sterling, nine million marks and…" She paused, digging into her pocket she produced a credit chit, placing it into his hands, she added. "Eight million quarian credits on me, I don't need their credits. not bad for eight years of service."_

_She tossed him the credit chit. John whistled lowly._

"_Fifty million US… Christ did the US intelligence agencies ever love your Father."_

_Waltraut laughed._

"_What can I say? The old man knew how to throw a coup." She spoke gaily as she sat on top of one of the barrels. "If the Americans wanted him to keep Cuba and Central America from falling to Socialism and Marxism, then this was a very small price to pay. Fifty million is a drop in the bucket. They spent nearly three quarters of a trillion dollars flexing their muscles in Vietnam. Father shattered communism in five countries and did it at a fraction of the price."_

"_Smug much?"_

_Waltraut nodded to John's remark. _

"_When your Father is Otto Skorzeny, I think I would have every reason to be proud." She spoke like a little girl proud of herself. "Not like your old man, the traitor. I'm surprised that old man Kaltenbrunner didn't kill him before he was assassinated."_

_Inhaling the last of his cigarette smoke, John dropped it. He knew Waltraut was only mess about. She and John quite often made snipes against each other's families; John for being born to traitors and mixed with aliens, Waltraut for having a Father spineless enough to follow Kaltenbrunner and his lot for decades. _

"_Hey, my father ushered in the quarians first contact." John reminded her, just as smug sounding as the older woman._

_Waltraut nodded again._

"_Yes he certainly did, by jabbing your mother with his dick."_

_John rounded back, his eyes widened at the woman grinning at him. _

"_You shut your filthy goddamn mouth!" He all but screamed at her, watching as Waltraut exploded with laughter._

_This was hardly a new way for teasing him, but he had the exact same scandalized response to her mentioning her Father's less than normal diplomatic response to meeting his mother all those years ago. That and the last thing he ever wanted to hear were carnal discussions involving his Mother and Father. Some things were just not meant to see the light of day._

_The two of them laughed until the humor in John's reaction died down in Waltraut. Brushing her hands together she joined him._

"_So," she started, smiling slightly for him. "What do you plan on doing?"_

_Glancing back to the barrels, John shrugged and turned back to her. His hand wrapped around her waist, earning a raised eyebrow from her._

"_Seed money for my future plans, going back to school… or I could bring school to me. Then I'll open a biomechanical augmentation firm," He informed her as they walked back towards the cargo truck together. "Make the latest in limb replacement technology built for humans, by humans. If it takes off, I move onto medicine. Cure the world, become beloved by billions. "_

_Next to him, Waltraut rolled her eyes._

"_So then, it's all to feed your vanity."_

_John emitted a short laugh as he looked her over._

"_No… I want to go a next step beyond," He continued on, growing more and more enthusiastic. "I want to reach the sciences quarians haven't touched on for humanity, perhaps even for themselves. I want to work on into neurone-augmentation; I want to prepare our people for potential biotic abilities… Eventually I unlock human controlled evolution."_

_John looked at the woman who was looking up at him amused by his dreams._

"_I like you, John. Most people in your position would say they'd retire with the money in hand. You want to change the world… for better or worse it's yet to be seen."_

_Like her Father before her, she too was skeptical of the advancements and potentials unlocked by the quarians. They scared Waltraut, just as her Father taught her to be. She could never understand that the quarians would not dump things on humanity without making sure the species was ready, or at the very least, close to it._

"_I'm 25 years old. I'm too young to quit now. Not when I have plans. I won't deny that millions in mixed currency and gold will be used to make me even more money than this. But, with money come influence and eventually wieldable power. Power is the key to the coming future." He informed her as they reached the cargo truck. "Our Fathers could never understand this. They were born and bred in war. To them only bodies and physical strength would influence this change…"_

_Yes, that was probably what was going on at home. With the death of his Brother Gerald at the DMZ eight years ago, Joachim Hoch had most likely moved his attention to building up his youngest son, Jochen, who absolutely adored his Father. _

"_Well big shot, how do you plan on smuggling 75 million back into the Reich?"_

_The question was a good one. John could only shrug as the answer was plan as day to him._

"_That's the easy part," He said. "I call my Mother and she sends me a shuttle to pick me up in twenty minutes flat."_

_Waltraut laughed at him. While Jochen, Gerald and his sisters adored their Father, John was more like Hanala Hoch, much to everyone's dismay. He just didn't seem to fit in the mold of professional, semi-decent man. He was born tricky. _

_Waltraut sighed as her laughter subsided again._

_"I guess this is it," She said wistfully. "It was… fun while it lasted."_

_Before John had a chance to speak, he found himself being choked to death by the Austrian woman's powerful grip. The only way he could get her to relax was to wrap his own arms around her. They stood there in silence, holding each other. Considering the sheer amount of hell they went through together this was hardly the first time._

_"This is an end of an era, but it won't be our last encounter," He assured her as he managed to pull himself out of her embrace slightly. "I'll be keeping in contact with you when I can. If you ever need to hide in the Reich, you can always come see me."_

_Sniffling as she smiled up to him, Waltraut nodded and broke her grip on him. Patting his cheek twice before kissing him, Waltraut stepped back and waved as she climbed into the cargo truck's cab. John waved back and still as he watched his partner for the past seven years revved the engine to life and pull out of the battle blasted compound, leaving John watching silently with his hands in his pockets._

_So ended this chapter of his life; it was time for the next. It would start with a call to the place where it all started for him._

_Home._

_Digging his old omni-tool out of his combat flak vest, John activated it and strapped it onto his arm. Grabbing his trusty old MP-44, giving to him by Otto Skorzeny, he slung it over his shoulder and pulled on his equally old M43 field cap. _

_The connection he was establishing home went through and before he knew it he was, for the first time in eight years, looking into the bright illumiscent eyes that belonged to his Mother, Hanala'Jarva._

"_Hello Mother," John nearly crooned like one of those gin soaked lounge singing wops America seemed so keen on producing twenty or so years ago._

_Mother's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth as she inspected her rather battered eldest sound grinning on her view screen. He must have been the last person in the galaxy she had expected to get a call from. John inspected her as well, she was a little older then he remembered. Eight years did that to a face. Still, she hadn't changed all that much, just a few more lines on the forehead and her eyes._

_It took several more moments before Mother finally pulled her hands off her mouth; her expression was still one of being in a state of complete shock. Slowly she started to smile. The expression made John's smile widen. In the background he could hear talking –possibly his sister's voices._

"_Reinhardt… Keelah… Where are you!" She demanded to know, her tone beyond angry as the smile vanished and was replaced by a glare. A glare, now that was something more along Mother's style._

"_I'm in Argentina, Mother," John informed her. "I'm turning on the tracking device. I want to come home now."_

_Her eyes widened as she did a double take._

"_Done," She nearly stuttered. "You are in so much trouble with your Father and I when you get home…. But just come home first."_

_John smiled to her and disconnected the line with her. Exhaling he glanced back to the barrels of currency. Boy was the Hoch family, who lived relatively modestly would be in for a surprise._

**…..**

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**…..**

"_**GERHARD YOU'RE FIRED THE MOMENT YOU STOP COMPRESSIONS. XEN, GET THAT NALOXONE LOADED, OCHOA, KEEP THAT PACE."**_

"Sir, she's dead! The readings indicated brain death thirty minutes ag-"

Before the man knew it, John Hoch had lifted the physician named Brenner by the front of his jacket and threw him against the opposite wall. The Doctor, stunned, managed to stumble and retreated from the room as John turned around and continued the chest compressions as properly as he could through the tears and sheer detestation that had overwhelmed his senses.

Next to him the woman operating the ambu bag continued counting off five seconds between every squeeze. John only paused the compressions to give Kalia'Xen enough room to scramble up to the woman lying on the couch, a syringe filled with an anti-opiate agent in her hand. Quickly she plunged it through Alexandria Ackerson's arm.

There was no reaction to the anti-opiate drug that was designed by man and nature to be a near instantaneous reaction. She did not open her eyes, she did not breath on her own. Like when they found her, she was still.

"She is not dead. She's not _fucking_ dead," John hissed down at the woman as he continued chest compressions more and more frantically. "Not like this. Not like this… no fucking way… no fucking way… no… _GODDAMN YOU_!"

A hand fell onto his shoulder. It belonged to Kalia'Xen, who stared at him sympathetically. Always his voice of rationality, John moaned as some of his rationality came back to him. Slowly, reluctantly, he stopped pushing in Alexandria's chest. There was a sobbing sob and as Isabella Ochoa too ended pumping the ambu bag and slumped to the floor,

This was so fucked up. This was so wrong.

Pressing his lips against her forehead, John pulled himself back, silently pulling the breathing tube from out of her throat, dropping it lifelessly on the floor. Everything was numb. He felt absolutely nothing other than a sudden drop in energy. He refused to look up to anyone other than 'Dria, who was staring up at him

"I need a wet cloth…" He mumbled to the two other occupants of the room. "I need to clean her… _hot_… just like she always liked it."

With the last of his mental strength, he forced his exhausted body to stand up, his head bobbing low as his hand rubbed the back of his head. This was impossible, completely impossible. He knew that this day would come. He was not so blind as to not see it coming, but it still hurt so extraordinarily much even when it finally happened.

It was not the death that was the only thing plaguing him. It was the heroin residue in the needle by her coffee table and the nearly empty bag of what appeared to be nearly pure heroin next to it. Not once in her entire life had she volunteered to use a detrimental narcotic. She did not smoke, she did not drink, so to find this… It made no sense.

Perhaps it wasn't meant to make sense to or the living. She was dying, she knew her time was coming and she decided she might as well have a taste considering how little time she had. Perhaps she felt a comfort in deciding how and when she died. Perhaps the last thing she wanted to do was to die from the complications of the disease that destroyed her everything.

If there was one thing that Alexandria Ackerson nee McKellan loved to do, it was to be in charge of whatever decision that fell within her grasp.

"I'm not seeing any injection marks," he heard behind him. "Considering how late stage her ALS was, I can't see her having enough motor control to handle an injection on her own."

John turned back and found that it was his head of Advanced Research and Development, Kalia'Xen, on her knees inspecting Alexandria's body with as much tact as Joachim Hoch in a synagogue.

Ignoring the furious desire to smack her, John returned to 'Dria's side, his hand falling on Kalia's shoulder, forcing her away from her former professional rival. He slumped back down on the edge of the couch, his hands clutching her gnarled fingers.

"She's had muscle implantations installed from before and after her condition started affecting her," He informed the scientist with restrained anger in his tone. "They didn't slow down her condition, they just helped keep up her strength. "

If there was any debate to be added by Kalia, and quite often there would be, John stared at her, as if daring her to say something, anything to continue her analysis of what happened beyond the obvious.

There was a soft tap on his shoulder. John turned around and found Isabella Ochoa, his pilot, his bodyguard, his confidant standing there, a wet cloth steaming in the cool air. Her eyes were completely swollen from the tears she was holding back. Alexandria had been her best friend, the woman who helped acclimatize Ochoa to life outside of the United States. Her eyes were unable to be turn away from the covered in blood and vomit.

Taking the wet warm cloth from Ochoa, John turned back and carefully pressed it against Alexandria's cheek. Her eyes were glazed, never leaving his. He could not close her eyes not yet. He could not bring himself to do it because it gave a sense of finally that his mind was unable to accept yet.

Washing the vomit off the side of her mouth was hardly a new thing for John, who had flat out refused to hire a caretaker for her in lieu of him, or on occasion, Ochoa. Now it would be the last time he ever did this dignity on her behalf. Clenching his lips closed, he pushed his free hand into her thinned hair.

"No wonder she didn't make a sound," Kalia started again, her voice far less analytical than it had been. "She crushed half a bottle of Temazepam, mixed with water and drank it. As soon as she injected the Heroin, she laid down and went to sleep."

John glanced back; Kalia was running a chemical diagnostic on the empty glass that had been knocked on the floor. She looked up to him.

"Sir… I know we have our differences, but I am so… so sorry," She breathed to her employer, surprisingly sincere. "I know how close you were with her. I cannot imagine-"

"Thank you, Xen," John interjected before she said too much. "Can you get me another cloth?"

Xen nodded and headed off to the 'Dria's bathroom, leaving John alone with Isabella, who looked like her whole world had just crashed down on her head. She was sitting against the wall opposite from 'Dria and John, staring at the body of her best friend, her body shaking as she clutched onto herself.

John looked to the Heroin bag and groaned once again. This was so fucked up.

"This can't come out," He breathed, turning back to 'Dria. "This didn't happen. Jesus Christ, 'Dria, what the hell do I tell your parents? Your husband… Jesus fuck, how about your kid? Heroin? How could you be so stupid?"

"You tell them the truth, Hoch;" Xen called from the bathroom, the sink tap running. "Death is not a moment to lighten the load for the bereaved. They need to know for their benefit."

The truth… no… he couldn't do that. He couldn't tell anyone that this happened.

"I know her parents. They're like my parents, as in hardcore Catholics." Isabella explained to John. "They will die if they know the truth. I mean… this was some sort of euthanasia. No matter how justifiable it may be, that's still suicide in their books… and suicide is a sin."

John could see Kalia roll her eyes as she approached him, handing John a fresh new hot cloth. John took it, cleaning the blood pooling from her nose.

"They're adults, Ochoa. They have to know how their daughter died," Xen repeated to the former US Naval Aviator. "Besides, the Church has been softening their stance on suicide."

"Just because the Church will overlook it, doesn't mean her parents will!" Isabella shot back to the quarian. "They'll believe in their hearts that their daughter went to hell because… because she did the humane thing."

"Assumptions; You make too many assumptions to base an argument that her parents would damn her," Xen snapped back to her, more furiously then before. "Second, humane? How in the hell was this humane?"

John remained silent as the grave.

He wanted to be angry at Ochoa for uttering what she said. He simply could not manage the proper response. He remained silent as Isabella approached him, her hand reaching out and touching against his forearm. He remained silent as the grave as he looked into Alexandria's eyes.

"She was rotting away, John… everyday was worse than the last. This was the end, whether it would be by Heroin or ALS. I know you saw it because I saw it," Isabella spoke to him in a voice barely more than a whisper. "She managed enough strength to inject the Heroin; she laid down went to sleep and didn't wake up. Not everyone gets that peaceful of a death."

John still did not look up. Her words made sense… she was probably dead before her body reflexes forced her to vomit and bleed. He had no say in the matter, but he hoped to God that Adam Ackerson would forgo the standard autopsy. That he would believe the lie he was concocting as he sat here stroking his best friends hand. He did not want to know how exactly she died.

He did not want Adam to know how she went about ending her life.

From behind them, a snort came from Xen.

"Sorry, but falling asleep and choking on her own vomit hardly constitutes a good death," Xen snapped out, furious at the suggestion made by her intellectual inferior. "Stick to flying, grunt. Being philosophical over how best one faces death isn't your talent."

At long last, John willed up the last of his courage and carefully closed Alexandria's eyelids. He looked up, the expression on his face ended the fight brewing between Kalia and the now furious, close to spilling quarian blood Ochoa. The two of them turned away from each other and back to their employer.

"The both of you shut up and get out of my sight," He declared to the two warring women. "Kalia, prep a slab in the cooler. Isabella, prep the VTOL. Adam is in Glastonbury."

The two women stared at their employer. Slowly they obliged him, filing out of the room, leaving John alone with Alexandria's remains. Staring at her for a good long moment, John turned away, gathered his suit jack from off the coffee table.

Gently, he wrapped it over her body and lifted her body from the couch, resting her in his arms.

He could not believe that it was all over.

**….**

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**….**

_December 16th 1993_

_"You know... Why didn't we ever get together? Could you imagine our children? Your brains, my charm, my charisma, my good looks, my wealth… Our child could rule the Earth from behind the scenes."_

_The woman behind the microscope did not look up as she absorbed at the personal question. So instead John took a seat in the clean room, the two of them now into hour ten of their laboratory research of the day. They would break soon, time to feed her, give her, her intake of vitamins and painkillers. She was already looking tender and was moving slow. _

_He was easily one of the wealthiest men on the planet at this point, yet he felt completely helpless to stop this, or at the very least slow it down. He only needed to walk about two hundred meters to the nearest elevator and head down to the medical centre to find her an improved upon Riluzole he had developed for the brief time she allowed medication for her pregnancy. She would however refuse it on grounds that it would corrupt her data on her self-experimentation._

_It wasn't a cure, but it worked well enough that the moment she had Amala, she got off the medication in fear of any further damaging her research into the natural progression, leaving her exposed to the disease that would no longer have any safeguards against. _

_"Three reasons, John," was her near robotic response to her friend, "First, you're describing our hypothetical child as some sort of next generation you. Second, if your Father ever found out you were breeding with a half breed; he would sterilize the two of us."_

_John could only grin despite himself._

_"He's not that bad," John returned, grabbing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "He hates the Scottish in you more than the Indian…. Am I going to know the third?"_

_Looking up from her neuron cultures, biopsied from herself a month ago, Alexandria Ackerson pulled off her mask and glanced up to meet John in the eye, her light brown skin paled, her tired expression both distant and amused by John's excuse for his card carrying Ex-Nazi father. The smile vanished off her gaunt face as she noticed the way he looked at her. His tone was light, but the way he looked at her. It was a man dead serious and searching for the answer._

_"You scare me."_

**….**

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**...**

"John?"

Breaking his distant stare at the McKellan family home, John turned back and found Isabella was turned right around in her seat, her eyes still stained. She had spent the flight over crying apparently. Rubbing her nose, she leaned closer. Exhaling John reached up and touched her cheek, her eyes closing at the cold steel of his augment arm grazed her face.

Without warning, the water works from the usually brutally tough woman broke loose again. Her hand covering her mouth as she bowed her head. Before John could react and give her whatever comfort he could provide for her, She pulled back and gripped onto his organic hand tightly.

"John… sh-should I come with you?" She asked. Her voice terribly hoarse.

Smiling the best he could to Ochoa, John shook his head and, kissing her forehead briefly, he pulled back and climbed out of the car and out into the cold English morning.

Over the past few months, this situation was played through his head in many different ways. Breaking the news of a death was always a hard thing to do. In the end he simply wasn't as prepared as he thought he would. His mind was a blank, barely working as his thoughts drifted back to finding her dead but still warm. The inability to save her just left him feeling small and helpless.

This was hardly the first time he had seen death, even personal death. He cradled his brother Gerald after they were surrounded by the resurgent Soviet offensive into the Russian Federation. He watched helplessly as the 17 year old, who managed to convince his parents to join so long as John went as well, died.

That death was different than this one. It filled him with rage. Rage that the Quarian Mandate and the Reich had refused to finish their war against the Soviets, buying them time to rebuild again. It filled him with hatred for his Father for permitting Gerald to serve. It motivated him to flee the Reich and head to Spain where he stumbled into former Waffen-SS Obergruppenführer Karl Wolff, who was only too glad to direct him to Kaltenbrunner and Skorzeny.

As he walked up the path, the front door opened, making the industrialist pause.

Standing there in the doorway was Adam Ackerson. Younger than Alexandria and him by twelve years, he stared down on John wearily. They stood there for a good long minute in silence.

"Is she dead?" Adam asked John, his voice devoid of all emotion. It was as sterile and as impersonal as a doctor speaking to a patient.

John didn't have to talk, he didn't even have to incline his head. His face said all that Adam needed to know. Still dead of emotion, Adam stepped back from the silent German, turned away and went back into his Parents-in-Law house once again, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Not one more word was spoken.

Exhaling more sharply then he meant to, his shaking hands pulled out his gold cigarette case.

As he lit his cigarette he noticed something in the corner of his eye. He looked up to the front window and found just a small toddler standing propped against the glass, her blue eyes staring at him curiously. It was little Amala, her hand clutching what appeared to be a security blanket, her hair messed up as though she had just woken up.

John smiled to her.

She smiled right back, and then shyly waved her hand. A gesture John returned, it was a gesture that left his heart up in his throat.

The interaction ended quickly. Adam had appeared and scooped the child up into his arms, carrying her to God knows where. Perhaps he was about to tell her what had happened. If that was at all possible for a child as young as Amala could ever comprehend. If he couldn't understand it, a child her age sure as hell couldn't

Unsteadily exhaling his cigarette, John left; drying his eyes. Just in case.

**….**

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**...**

**Strange how that happened; it just felt right when I wrote it. I guess I had been listening to too much Alice In Chains.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Investments

**On with the story.**

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**….**

**Chapter Two: Investments**

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_April 8__th__, 1994_

_"It looks wonderful, it smells delicious… it's just that I'm just not hungry, John."_

_Looking up from his own bowl light pheasant consommé, John gave Alexandria a weary stare as she held her eyes on what was essentially glorified broth, her spoon making waves as she ran it in a slow circle, as though she were in a trance. She didn't seem to be having an episode. Perhaps she was simply itching to get back to the lab and finish her observations of her neuron cultures. Or perhaps it was anyone of the numerous projects she had started since she shut herself off from the real world. _

_Although it might have been a vague possibility that they could pick back up so soon, Alexandria seemed to have forgotten that John was not only her boss, but her caretaker as well. As such, she was not allowed to do anymore work tonight. Her lab time was now officially cut from eighteen to fourteen hours a day. John's decision was made for him when he caught her in a heated argument with Doctor Fassbender, head researcher in ocular augmentation studies, and a qualified ocular surgeon. She had wanted to sign up for a parvocellular extraction to study the decaying effects the disease had on vision. _

_When he asked why they were fighting, she had told John that she was losing her depth perception. John told her that was what happened when you did not sleep and spent most of the week looking through a manual microscope rather than use the equipment he provided her. To say it brought great embarrassment that she was trying to order an eye scraping because of a symptom of overexertion would have made John laugh if she hadn't broke down and cried for several long hours._

_"That's cute. You actually think that you have a choice in the matter," he spoke, sipping his broth, purposely not noticing her eyes narrow at him. "Eat or I'll reduce lab time to eight. You know I will do it."_

_Setting down his spoon, he stood up from his seat. He glanced away from Alexandria, who was stabbing her consommé, and over to the third person sitting at the dining table, who had not said a word since she sat down. Isabella Ochoa, a friend of Alexandria. McKellan… Ackerson had personally recommended the woman as a security member for the growing threats Daedalus Industries was facing from threats internal and external. In a matter of a few years, she had jumped all the way up to head of his security detail for both him and his new private empire._

_"Please could you eat, Alexandria?" Isabella requesting, smiling encouragingly to her friend, "It would make me feel better. It's not like the boss made it personally."_

_Ignoring the jibe offered up by Isabella, John closed the drawer behind him and headed back to the table._

_"Well in that case..." The Scot started to joke, until she hissed as an auto-injector in John's hand plunged into her arm. Looking up furiously, she added. "What in the hell was that for!"_

_John quirked his lips as he handed Alexandria a napkin to stop a bleed from the injection site._

_"Concentrated tetrahyrdrocannabinol, I've been experimenting with it since '88," John explained as he cleaned the injector and reloaded it. "I initially designed it to combat the effects of weight loss during cancer and AIDS treatment in North America. It would have been sort of a gateway to warm those people up to modern medicine. No luck though, apparently they think it wise to wage a war on a plant." _

_Opening his cigarette case, John glanced up and met Alexandria's disapproving stare. He sighed and tucked them away, his mouth forming a half smile._

_"Well for now, the applications could be used as a part of bulimia and anorexia therapy," he tacked on. I'm toying with whether or not to lessen the psychotropic effects."_

_Gesturing the injector to Isabella, the woman curved her mouth only slightly and nodded. She hissed as the injector plunged into her arm, her free hand reaching up to rub the tender flesh. Biting her lip as she pushed her dark locks from out of her field of vision, Isabella leaned back into her seat, her mouth forming a bright smile, as if the injection had already taken effect._

_"So you took the good part of Marijuana and took out the smoking or the cooking?" the Chief of Security spoke, humoured by the prospect, glancing to Alexandria, she added, "sign Hoch up for a Nobel Prize, Doctor Ackerson. He earned it!" _

_John chuckled lightly at the remark offered by his pilot bodyguard and confidant all rolled into one, he injected a dose into himself and then tucked the auto injector away into the drawer. John turned back and found Alexandria watching him, her arms crossed. She looked at him oddly, like he had done something wrong. Exhaling, Alexandria leaned back into her seat, her arms uncrossing as her fingers laced together._

_"THC also suppresses muscle spasms brought on by neuron disease, Bella," she spoke softly for Ochoa's benefit. "John Hoch, you're as clear as day, It's somewhat embarrassing."_

_The scientist and the Industrialist stared at each other, neither of them speaking. The state left the Security Chief and pilot with the realization that she was extremely out of place at the moment. Gathering her dishes and blinking as the THC was officially taking its hold, she stood up. The woman knew better than to get involved with a potential fight between the two old friends. Hoch could not blame her, though they might have been friends, Alexandria and he had come from vastly different families, which then translated into furious fights that lasted hours and would often occur in front of the staff._

_"I'm going to go," She excused herself, choosing not to look either of them in the eye. "I have half a pound of Columbian green in a sock drawer that I haven't touched in some time... You're welcomed to join me, boss, Doctor Ackerson... you know, whenever."_

_John broke his glance briefly to nod his head. He turned back to Alexandria, who had broken her dulled gaze to look down at the soup bowl. Her spoon dipped in as she took her first taste of the chilling thin broth. Exhaling, John wandered over to the nearest seat next to her and slumped into the seat, his fingers folding together as he directed his gaze on them._

_The top of his hands were suddenly gripped by caramel toned hands, hands that were withered more than they should have been at her age. Alexandria looked up as John squeezed her fingertips, she smiled weakly to him. That crooked smile she would get when she found herself in an awkward place. Well, it was somewhat awkward since his question a few days ago since he asked her a rather personal question. Perhaps his mother was right; perhaps he ran his mouth without thinking. _

_Even if that was the case, John still felt he had that undeniable right, especially with Alexandria being the focal point of his infinite curiosity. He needed to know everything about her, in the off chance that they failed to find a way to save her. Yes, he would save her; he would save her then the others. No matter how badly his logical mind screamed at his irrational heart that he would not save her. She was setting herself up as a sacrifice for the sake of others. She had accepted her fate, so why couldn't he?_

_No, here he sat, his hands being held by a woman who, after spending a good hundred hours a week in a lab. She was probably worn out, her bones aching as her nervous system was collapsing with every second. It was probably like pins and needles do this simple act of holding his hands, an act that reassured him more than she._

_"So... why do I scare you?" John finally found his voice, his head tilting to finally look the woman properly._

_Alexandria did not reply at first, she simply held her eyes on the hand she was gripping. She seemed to have been trying to focus on her breathing, that or she had a headache coming on. Whatever it was caused the man to frown slightly._

_"There was a time when I wasn't scared of you, John. Truth is I fancied you quite a bit," Alexandria admitted, her eyes looking up towards him finally. "Then you came home from Argentina in '78. You spent what? Years training under that complete lunatic Nazi, Skorzeny? God knows how many years in Cambodia, Vietnam and elsewhere, doing God knows what to the locals..."_

_John blinked; his hands flattened out as he reached over the table and grabbed his screwdriver, sipping his drink carefully. He had not broached the subject of what he did during most of the seventies. The two of them silently agreed that his time fighting Communists and American and Australian-New Zealander expansion into Southeast Asia and the America's, under the guise of stopping communism and fascism was his calling. It was his blood calling for him to do something other than show off to the intellectual elite of the quarian and German nations that he was just like them. In short, whether or not he wanted to, his Father's calling was turning its ugly attention to him and he was unable to resist it._

_"Killing, raping the locals, burning the villages to a cinder…" John shot back, grinning as he finished his drink, "You know, all that standard bleeding heart liberal bullshit you hear the Hollywood and Paris types sob about… Fucking Jane Fonda's worshiping on the very alter of the 'glorious brotherhood' Marx dreamt of."_

_Alexandria pushed herself back, her expression becoming one of annoyed disgust with what he said. It was just like the old days, John mused. It was the old English and Germany rivalry after the forced peace in Casablanca. He would say something and she would be unbelievably enraged by it. It was his favourite source of entertainment. It was something that had been growing rarer as Alexandria was becoming more and more dependent upon him. Dissension was the first casualty in their war against her ailment._

_"You can't even be serious about telling me what you did with the Paladin Group. That is why I am scared of you!" Alexandria rasped out, crossing her arms as she glared furiously at him. "You have everything a lot of people do not have. A family that loves you, parents that saw and dealt with the monsters that you worked with. You became your Father without the uniform he wore. And at least he had the excuse of not knowing anything better. Your Father taught you better than that and still you threw it away!"_

_John dropped his spoon, making Alexandria flinch. She was clearly extremely nervous and believed that she pushed John a little too far. Realizing he was growing irritable with her, John exhaled slowly and leaned back in his seat, is hands gripping the table edge as he looked on her._

"_What do you want me to say, 'Dria? You want the truth?" he asked slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I was 18 years old, 'Dria. I was young, I was angry; beyond fucking angry at my parents for permitting Gerald to serving on the DMZ with me, 17 years old, he shouldn't have been out there. I was mad that the Russian bullet caught Gerald and not me. My Father did not even shed a tear for Gerald, he was cold to it. They had to bury him closed casket. 7.62x33 round…" he breathed. "Nearly cut his head in two. It caught him just below his nose, took him about twenty seconds to die…" _

_Noticing how stunned 'Dria was, John turned his head downwards. He did not mean to get graphic, but the topic of his Brother rarely ventured past his thoughts. _

"_I thought service in Skorzeny's ranks would avenge him," He concluded finally. "It didn't." _

_Forcing himself to smile, John looked up to Alexandria. He downed the last of his orange juice and vodka._

_"So you fancied me but you feared me. Is that why you married him?" He inquired, unblinking as kept his faint smile for the woman who was staring at the glass of water. "He was a safer choice?"_

_The question was left hanging in the air. It was a question that was in the air between the two of them for the past four years. A whirlwind romance between her and the American… or was he Canadian? Whatever Adam was, he had suddenly shown up her arm shortly after he joined Daedalus, despite having only known her for a few months and he being eight or so years younger than she. It was very scandalous, at least to his Mother anyway._

_"I married him because I love him. It wasn't that he was safer, Adam… He's less complicated, he's dependable and he's everything I wish I could have been like," she whispered finally._

_John narrowed his eyes at the remark. Surely she wasn't being serious. He had offered her just about everything only to see a great mind slum for mediocrity? _

_"Yet you're sitting here and have been here for the past five months with no contact with him," he pointed out, his smiling dying as he stared at her carefully. "I have more than enough room for him and the baby to move in. Hell, I'll spring for a nanny. We could always use an extra hand, even if he's just a physician. I'm sure he'll understand some of it. Even if he doesn't I'm sure he would be willing to help with the tertiary research."_

_She remained very still as John erased every reason for keeping Adam in the dark that he could think of. Alexandria looked as though he had punched her. _

_"I don't want them here," She finally admitted to him. "I don't want them to see me like this, a bloody mess that will only get worse," pausing, Alexandria sipped her water, adding. "I just… Adam will be better off with caring for a child. He'll be a much better Father than I would be a Mother, even if I was healthy. Besides, he'll have his hands full with her. The last thing he needs is ruining the next few years for him."_

_She trailed off, silently she stood, her hands trembling as she gripped the table. Carefully she stepped forward, her mouth forming half a smile as she allowed her hand to touch the side of John's neck. John tensed up, his own hand instinctively fall on top of hers._

_"Besides," She breathed. "You and I have a lot of work ahead of us… I do remember you promising to save me…"_

_John swallowed, his mind searching for something, anything to say to that. Yes, he had made that promise to her. He would save her; he would not let her die on his watch. Regardless at how much she might have been jesting him at the moment. She thought his intentions foolish._

_"Holy shit, Cobain killed himself!"_

_It was Isabella, jabbering wildly like Spanish women did; her voice wild and shocked. She was clearly stoned on the combo THC and by her own hand. Finishing his drink, he glanced to Alexandria standing in the doorway, her hand clutching the frame. She offered him a faint smile before she turned away, leaving John alone in the dining room._

_"Couldn't have happened to a better person, Ochoa," John shouted back as he stood to join his bodyguard who was getting high in the lounge. "I blew thirty grand on company tickets for Rome and the son of a bitch overdosed and canceled the show!"_

**…**

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**…**

A hand touching against his shoulder brought John Hoch back to reality. He looked at the source and found it had been his sister, Haeva, smiling nervously at him. Offering her a half-hearted smile in return, John turned back to face the Priest who was presiding over the funeral precession, his expression soft and sympathetic as it fell to the three people sitting on two seats. Adam Ackerson, clutching Amala, Alexandria's daughter tightly in his arms, almost worried she would leave him as well.

Near to him was a quiet old man, his eyes flickering up to stare down the other old man at standing silently with his wife, paying no attention to it. The old man was his Father, Joachim. They did not know each other, but Bernard McKellan was Scottish, whose allegiance was to Great Britain, while Joachim was a German. That was all that was needed for hatred to grow between the two old men.

_"As we gather to commend our sister, Alexandria Ackerson to God, our Father and to commit her body to the earth, let us express in prayer, our common faith in the resurrection. As Jesus Christ was raised from the dead, we too are called to follow him through death to the glory where God will be all in all."_

She was finally at peace. The last thing Alexandria would have wanted to here was some whacko theologian committed her to her grave she did not want.

No, what she wanted to be shot towards her favourite star, Proxima Centauri. However it was not to be, thanks to her Father, Captain Bernard McKellan, retired officer, who served in the 14th Army under General Slim, rotting away in the Burma Campaign for almost a decade, it left him fiercely Catholic and demanding his daughter be buried on Earth, like a McKellan ought to be.

Adam, Alexandria's husband, continued to stare at the coffin, clearly lost in grief was inclined to agree with his Father-in-Law. It wasn't so much of disagreement with him, it was practical reasons. Somewhere he could find her. Somewhere for Alexandria's legacy could find her. In her final two years, she all but stopped seeing Adam, her obsession with finding a cure, to experiment on herself for the sake of her daughter, her goal.

He wondered if Alexandria had told him that was her reason for choosing to die, rather than fight to live.

Though Adam was cut from her, Hoch was there. For those two years he was there, taking care of her, watching as she rotted away before him. Some would describe ALS as turning loved ones to stone. Not John, he knew better, it rotted away her neurons. He watched as she rotted away physically, emotionally. The bad days he had to listen to her scream for him to kill her, in her panic. Then there were the good days when they reminisced about times that were gone forever, every day worse than the next, every day more desperate.

And now she was gone. His best friend was gone.

Hands in his pockets, John Hoch fumbled with his golden cigarette case, but allowed it to slip from out of his grasp. She would have been proud of him. He hadn't smoked in three days.

He could not believe this had happened. Twenty five years of friendship, medical school, quarian institutes and years spent breaking the cancer gene, developing augmentation technology for healthcare, civilian and military applications. All of it came crashing down around him when she told him that ALS –an odd, relatively obscured neuron disease was eating her alive.

He could have saved her, he should have saved her. He could have done so much more for her. But it was too late. She was gone and she would never be back now.

_"You can't cure death, John. No matter how much money you can throw at it."_

This had grown to be her motto in her twilight months. Well. He would prove her wrong.

_"We read in sacred Scripture: Matthew 25:34: Come, you who are blessed by my Father, says the Lord, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world."_

He should have fought her on this. He should have forced that stubborn woman into taking treatments. They could have tracked the disease in any of the other hundreds of thousands of victims. She could have lived for a good decade maybe longer as they developed the treatments as they went along.

He should have spent less time on perfecting limb technology and organ replacement, the cancer therapies developed in the mid to late eighties was plagued by years of red tape offered up by North American drug companies that lobbied successfully that research from Europe could potentially be dangerous, his therapy used as a weapon of dependence. They played on the Anti-German fears of general North American public during the last decade.

He should have ended that fight the moment it started, withdrew and allowed those backwards fuckers die from the cancer and AIDS deaths that were rising constantly over there, and instead focused on motor neuron diseases, the first stepping stone to brain disease. Alexandria would have still been alive had he explored that area without needing her admitting she was sick as a motivator.

_"Lord Jesus Christ, by your own three days in the tomb, you hallowed the graves of all who believe in you and so made the grave a sign of hope that promises resurrection even as it claims our mortal bodies. Grant that our sister may sleep here in peace until you awaken her to glory, for you are the resurrection and the life. Then she will see you face to face and in your light will see light and know the splendour of God, for you live and reign for ever and ever..."_

_"Amen,"_ Everyone in the gathering but John solemnly murmured back.

_"Before we go our separate ways, let us take leave of our sister, Alexandria. May our farewell express our affection for her; may it ease our sadness and strengthen our hope. One day we shall joyfully greet her again when the love of Christ, which conquers all things, destroys even death itself."_

Officially done with this death worshipping, John backed out of the crowd and turned, ignoring the glances offered by the bereaving gathering, Father turned and looked as though he was going to stop him, but he didn't. Glad his Father did not try anything, he left, not noticing that a short quarian woman was walking swiftly to catch him.

_"John?"_

Pulling on his ray-bans, and reaching for his cigarettes, John turned and offered a thin smile for Galina as she joined him exiting the cemetery. Her expression was one of both sympathy for her Brother and curiosity as to what her Brother and employer was doing. As she reached his side, he reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

Well, what John needed to do was something, anything. He made his first billion in Daedalus by the time he was twenty nine. He was influential beyond most other men on this little planet. He had the power to shape the future in any way he wished. To feel this powerless… it felt so wrong to him.

He needed to keep himself busy. That was what he needed now. A nice distraction from all of this inevitable mess he found himself in. He needed to find a way to forget that there was now a gaping hole in his everyday life.

"I want you to get in touch with Fredrick," John issued to her. "Tell him all research and funding into the Leda Project is diverted to the Alexandria Project. Anything occurring in the news today?"

Scanning through her omni-tool, Galina looked back up, tucking her silver hair, a rare quarian trait that had apparently skipped several generations in the Jarva line. It didn't make her prematurely old; she just looked, different, considering that ninety odd percent of quarians had dark hair.

"The Germanic-Quarian delegation has arrived in Washington D.C for the negotiations."

Oh… right… the potential end of the Cold War, at least the Cold War between the North American Union and the Reich. Yes, he could help there. Since the collapse of the Fascist Union of Nations, the NAU was a blooming superpower that knew it would need to alleviate the fears involving the quarians and the German Reich. There was much to be offered with the new friendship being played around with. Not united in the traditional sense of a union, they were an economic block for the time being. Who knew if it would bring about a unified North American state.

Perhaps he could help with the efforts. He could throw together a conference over there. Perhaps even take another stab at bringing North America out of the medical dark ages even. If he could convince them, then he would have a new source of capital, capital well spent into further research. He would not grovel for their business like last time. He wasn't small time now. He would simply remind them of all the cancer and AIDS deaths they could have prevented had they taken him up on his work.

"Good, I want my VTOL fuelled and Isabella ready to fly to Washington inside the hour," He spoke as he opened the limousine's door for her. "Are you up for a trip, sister?"

Galina slightly frowned as she stepped into the car. John could not blame her for not appearing too enthusiastic with it. If being a German national in North America was tough, it was ten times worse to be a Quarian-German.

**...**

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**...**

"It was a lovely service… all things considered."

Watching as the casket was carefully lowered into the Earth, Adam Ackerson looked up to find his Father-in-Law, Bernard standing there, his eyes too focused on his daughter being lowered into her final resting place. Slowly he limped over, an old war wound from Japanese grenade shrapnel he took outside of Osaka, Japan. His arm reached out and wrapped around Adam's shoulder blades.

"Yeah…" Adam spoke for the first time today. "John Hoch insisted he pay for it, he didn't make any demands."

The way the words were spoken told Adam that there was no genuine gratitude behind them. It was no secret that John and Bernard spent several days battling each other over the details of Alexandria's burial. It took Joachim Hoch stepping in and telling the two of them to shut up, he told his son that Amala would want to have somewhere she could feasibly go to see her when she needed to. Launching her into Alpha Proxima was off the table.

In the end John, who knew better to argue with his Father, despite his advanced age submitted to the request. As for Adam, it didn't matter to him where Alexandria was buried. He was angry at her and in a state of grief. It was best that these two chose where she was laid to rest. He loved her, he loved her but he hated her so much right about now.

She did not have to run and hide like she did. He wasn't a child, he knew exactly where ALS would lead to, and unlike the silly notions of optimistic theoretical scientists, he was a realist physician who worked with the tools he had and he knew that beyond several drugs that delayed the inevitable, ALS was a death sentence. He could live that that better had he been granted by Alexandria and John a chance to be there, but instead it looked as though she was another science experiment for John's work.

"Son, the Missus and I were hoping to have you back home with us, at least for a little while longer," Bernard spoke up again. "We wouldn't feel right having you on your own right now."

Adam turned his head, breaking his miserable thought process; he offered the best smile he could produce for his Father-in-Law.

"That means a lot to me, sir. I'd love to, I really would. I just can't…" He replied, earning a tilt of the old man's head. Sighing, he added. "I got permission for Amala and I to head back to North America on an emergency visa. She hasn't met her other grandparents before. I… I think getting off the continent for a few weeks would do us both some good."

Instead of being insulted as he expected, Bernard's expression lit up at the sudden news. He... well, he didn't exactly get along with his family. They were different people. They had no idea that he was… had been married, let alone now had a three year old daughter. He didn't exactly know how to explain his situation when he mentioned he was coming home for a visit several days ago. In the end he reckoned he would just explain it all when he got home.

"I completely understand what you need. You do what you have to do to survive," He assured Adam, clasping his hand over Adam's for a moment, adding, "I realize my daughter... well, she wasn't exactly willing to spend any time with the two of you during her last years. I would not be the least it surprised if a Hoch was behind it –bad blood, you see… It's in their genes."

Bernard fell silent as he realized Joachim Hoch was looking their way. He had heard stories about the two of them fighting since John Hoch made friends with his daughter, that once in a moment of sarcastic spite, Bernard gave Joachim the Nazi salute and asked if it reminded him of old times. Bernard ended up getting his head nearly knocked off his shoulders by the -at the time, undeclared former Nazi hunter.

The Scot had gotten lucky. Before him, the last time any man gave Joachim a salute like that was in three years prior in 1962 and it had been from the then head of the American Nazi Party, George Lincoln Rockwell who was on a pilgrimage to German and Austrian Nazis for guidance. First, Rockwell ended up in a three day coma. Then several years later, he had been assassinated. Whether Joachim Hoch placed a hit on him, was still a mystery. Probably not, but it would have been sweet if it was the truth.

"Anyways, I want you to know Amala and I will always be there for the two of you, understood?"

Adam smiled for the Scot and nodded.

"I know, thank you sir."

The two men hugged, albeit uncomfortably. They pulled away rather quickly. Bernard looked ready to speak again, but then two words directed towards them kept him in silence:

_"Grampa come!"_

Standing far off was Amala, clutching onto her Grandmother's hand. She looked deadly serious about having her Grandfather joining her, like the world would end without him gracing her with his presence. The old man broke his stoic reserve and smiled in the direction of Amala and his wife, who was extremely reserved herself.

Bernard looked back to Adam, as if looking for permission to leave. Adam nodded.

"If Her Majesty has beckoned you, then it would not be wise to keep her waiting."

Bernard's smile widened as he reached out and clapped Adam on the back, leaving to join his wife and Grandchild. Amala looked to her Father and waved. Adam waved back and turned away, burying his hands in his pockets as he turned back to the burial plot. He nodded to the Pastor as he finished gathering his tickets.

"Adam?"

Before he could fall into a state of personal grief, Adam exhaled and turned around, finding two women standing only feet away from him.

"Hello, Adam. I am Haeva Hoch, and this is my sister Erika," the quarian spoke, gesturing to the human, who nodded her head. "We're sisters to Reinhardt… John as he known to… well… outside the family circle."

The two of them were matching in just about every why, from black dresses to matching wide brimmed sunhats, their hair tied back and eyes covered in heavy looking Ray-Ban sunglasses. One however was a blonde, the other a dark haired quarian. Both of them standing at 6 feet tall a piece, they were at Adam's height, and that was without heels. These two examples of Heroin chic were only a few months shy of their fortieth birthday, they looked a decade or so younger.

Finding his manners, Adam offered his hand to them, which the two women shook kindly.

"Oh right…" he spoke lamely. "John called you twins quite often…. I'm not sure why…"

The two women looked at each other, their expressions deadpanned as the absorbed what he had said.

"Hilarious, isn't he, sister?" Erika spoke to her sibling, devoid of all emotion. Next to her, Haeva inclined her head in agreement.

"Oh yes, Reinhardt is such an endless source of amusement, isn't he, dear sister?" Haeva replied, just as emotionless as her sibling had. It was almost as though they were twins.

Adam's lips quirked, making both sister's grin widely for a fraction of the second. If it was their intention of bringing Adam amusement in this terrible moment, then they had succeeded. It did not take long before the human vanished and Adam begun to turn away, looking to see if Amala was nearby.

The reaction did not go unnoticed. Erika reached out and took a hold of Adam's hands, forcing the younger physician to remain still as he turned back to look at the two women, now expressing sincere, unending sympathy for him. Haeva stepped forward and placed her hand around his waist. Together the two sisters guided John back to his seat before John ended up back into a state of panic.

"Ignoring our Brother's rapt wit, we wish to offer you our sympathies," Erika spoke, her hand squeezing Adam's as she took a seat next to him. "The whole of the Hoch family loved and adored Alexandria the moment Reinhardt brought her home."

On the other side, Haeva took a seat, taking his free hand into hers.

"Well… except for Father, who was disgusted that Reinhardt let that half-breed swim in our pool."

Adam's eyes widened at the comment as he rounded back to glare at the quarian woman. Erika leaned back and smacked her sister on the back of her head head, making the woman yelp out. Rolling her eyes, she tapped Adam, bringing his attention back to her sheepish smile.

"To be fair, Adam, Father absolutely hates the Scots. Don't know why, but he does… or did at least," she explained to him, looking to her Father standing off in the distance. "The moment he heard the poor girl speak, he nearly kicked her out of the house."

Haeva lost control of her self-restraint and burst out into a tirade of laughter. Apparently, behind the icy demeanor they could produce, she was by far more less restraint then the human sibling. God help him, the rather peculiar racism Joachim Hoch had was kind of hilarious…

"O-oh that poor girl, she nearly got Father into a fist fight with Reinhardt because he thought it was about her being not white!" Haeva nearly stammered, smiling widely to Adam as she clutched his arm. "Oh my God that was classic! Daddy… Daddy said, _'Rein-Reinhardt get that disgusting thing out of my pool, or I'm sending her Father the cleaning bill!' _Oh God, poor Reinhardt nearly had an aneurysm!"

Erika clearly could not help herself, she lost her control next, burying her face into Adam's arm as she started laughing. The behaviour caught Adam off his guard, lowly he chuckled. As offensive as it seemed, he remembered how easily Alexandria could be unbalanced if the right thing was said or she was challenged in an odd way.

It felt cathartic to laugh at the expense of the deceased. It felt so awfully, guiltily good. Considering the hell Alexandria had inadvertently put him through these past few years, it was the least he should be allowed to do.

Adam looked up to the source of this new story he might one day tell his daughter, Joachim Hoch, who was standing with his wife, speaking to an immaculately dressed Wehrmacht Oberst, who looked utterly stern. Her laughter subsiding, Erika looked up and noticed to who Adam was staring at. She reached over and nudged her sister.

"Look sister, the _prodigal_ son has returned," she spoke mockingly.

Adam turned to look to the two of them, both of them appeared suddenly unhappy by the newcomer's appearance at the funeral.

"My, my, I suppose Jochen had to wait until Reinhardt wasn't around," Haeva muttered darkly. "Prussian Junker wannabe… Just because his biological Mother is a Prussian born, doesn't make him nobility."

_Jochen Hoch_? Adam's attention perked back to the stern Oberst, his arms behind his back as he stared at the funeral plot. Adam had never seen the youngest song of the Hoch family. His life had apparently been dedicated to service and apparently now advancing the Hoch families social status into the circles that John Hoch's money probably couldn't buy entrance into.

A sudden weight smacked against his leg. Looking down he found it was Amala, her big blue eyes looking up to him with an obvious expectation

"Daddy I'm hungry."

Erika nearly emitted a squeal, making the girl look to the woman with wide, fearful eyes. Before Amala had a chance to escape, Erika had reached down and scooped the child in her arms. Erika, who had a couple children of her own, looked to Adam, who nodded, knowing that Erika was going to take the girl to find something to eat.

Together Erika and his Daughter left Adam and Haeva, Adam chuckling again, and Haeva who rolled her eyes at the sight.

"Erika being maternal, go figure," she taunted her sister. "Anyways, we want to wish you our sympathies on behalf of Reinhardt as well… he had to take off. He doesn't like to show his emotion to a crowd, so he went off to work. When you come back from your visit with family, we would be delighted to have you and Amala over for a dinner…"

She paused, and then smiled ruefully.

"I mean, whenever you two are up to it, of course," She tacked on.

Unaware that the sisters had overheard Adam speaking to his Father-in-Law about his plans for the next few weeks, John smiled sheepishly at the quarian woman.

"Thank you, both of you," Adam replied, truly grateful for the offer. "And could you thank your parents for coming as well…"

Adam trailed off, approaching Haeva and John was Hanala Hoch. Dressed more conservatively then her daughters, she wore a heavy coat and a head scarf that covered her wispy grey hair. Standing up, Haeva, waved farewell to Adam and, kissing her Mother's cheek as she passed by her, went to join her Father and Brother.

Adam, taken aback by the woman and sheer amount of history and fame the woman had, stood as the woman slowed down to a stop. Her grief filled expression was marred by scars from battles long ago. It was clear that she had cared very much for the woman who had lost her life far too early.

"I trust my daughters weren't terrorizing you and the child," She spoke slowly, raspy as though she had a cold. "Hanala Hoch, it's a pleasure to meet you at long last Adam."

Like her daughters before her, she shook Adam's hand, albeit with far more tenderness on his part. Had he been on duty he would have asked if she was taking a vitamin supplement for strengthening her bones.

"They were just telling me about the time your husband berated Alexandria for being half Scottish, Ma'am," he admitted the former Admiral.

Hanala groaned wearily. Clearly this was a well-treaded story. One of those stories families shared for time immemorial

"Oh yes, Joachim being a prejudice about race mixing, meanwhile he has a mixed species family. Forgive my language, but what a big fucking surprise," She muttered as her hand covered her face. Sighing as she looked up, she added. "Come… take an old woman on a walk?"

Looking to where to where Alexandria laid, slowly Adam inclined his head. He could use a distraction.

**…**

* * *

**…**

_July 9__th__, 1978_

.

"_REINHARDT!"_

_John grinned at his sister as he pulled himself off the side of his car. He knelt down slightly as his sister, usually shy and extremely reserved bolted through her school mate and leaped into John's arms. Grinning as he heard a rare sob escape her as he pushed his hand through the back of her hair. He stood up straight once again, holding her in his arms like she was eight years old again. _

_Like the sucker he was, he absolutely needed to see his baby sister Galina first. As much as he loved his Mother, respected his Father and cared for his other siblings, the one constant was the unconditional love that emitted from Galina whenever he was around. He was absolutely terrified that it would fade over his long absence. _

_So he bit the bullet and decided that the moment he landed in Königsberg, he got himself something nice to wear and, on a bit of a whim, a brand new Porsche 928 that looked rather enticing to him. Investments in the future he reckoned. Then it off to wait in front of Galina's school until class finally was let out, leaving John enough time to rehearse something to convince her that he still loved her. _

_He turned away from the looks he and his sister got from passing school children and teachers as she continued to clutch onto him for dear life. After a good long moment she finally slid off him and looked up at her big brother, her expression was surprisingly angry as she eyed him up._

"_Hello Galina, mad at me too?" He inquired quietly as he smiled for her. The speech had prepared was gone from his mind._

_Galina shrugged._

"_I really, really missed you, Reinhardt…" she spoke, her voice wobbly, dangerously close to tears. Looking up, she added, "why didn't you call or write or do anything a normal person would do when they had a family who was worried sick about you for so, so long!"_

_Cupping her check, he felt Galina tighten her grip on him. He ignored the urge to throw himself off the nearest bridge._

"_Where I was, it was rather difficult to get word out. If you didn't have what you needed there, then it wasn't important to them," He explained to his pouting little sister. Raising her chin up so that she looked at him once again, he added. "That did not stop me from missing you… all of you, really."_

_Slowly the girl nodded, accepting the answer even if she did not like it. Sighing, Galina let her Brother go and allowed John to guide her into the passenger seat. Climbing in next, John turned the ignition, pulled the car out of neutral and took off down in the direction of home. They remained silent for a good long while, though Galina's eyes remained fixated on her brother, as though if she turned away he would be gone again._

"_We missed you too. She announced, making John grin slightly. Galina frowned, adding, "except for Jochen, of course. He hates you, you know. Jochen is getting connected to Prussian families. He wants to be one of them, even if it means marrying into one of them. He thinks you will be a permanent black stain on the family for being a Nazi collaborator."_

_John didn't even blink at what Galina said as he shifted gears._

"_Yeah… that sounds like Jochen all right," he replied, almost amused by what she said. "Remake the Hoch's in a new Prussian Junker… as if they'll accept a mixed species family into their clique. Blame me for collaborating, while conveniently forgetting Father was a card carrying, uniform wearing Nazi in his youth… big fucking surprise right there."_

_Silence fell as Galina seemed to digest John's opinion on their brother. She blinked and looked around at the vehicle she was in. Apparently she was just cluing into her surroundings. Galina turned back, her eyes narrowed at her brother in sheer curiosity._

"_Reinhardt… where did you get this car from?" she spoke up finally. "Was it Mother and Father?"_

_John smiled and shook his head; Mother and Father buying him a brand new Porsche? Very freaking unlikely. _

_"I haven't seen them yet… Mother and Father I mean," John told her. "I just got into the country, bought myself something nice to wear and a car to drive. I wanted to see my favourite member of this odd fucking family before everyone else."_

_Galina's smile brightened…until she turned around and looked into the backseat, where his old gear including his MP-43 was resting. She turned back and stared wide eyed at her brother._

_"Keelah… that's… that's a gun in the backseat! How did you pay for this, Reinhardt!? Oh God, is it stolen?"_

_John laughed heartily at Galina's sudden fear that her Brother had suddenly turned to a life of crime in his absence. His eyes never leaving the road, he reached between the seats and handed Galina the datapad he used to store the transaction on his recent side trip to Switzerland before returning home. He did not even have to open an account. Otto Skorzeny had opened one in his name. Sitting in there already was four million marks – a gift from the old man. It would be another large sum of money to go into his plans._

_Galina's eyes widened as she read the numbers. She looked up, her grey skin tone paling as she watched her Brother's smile grow even wider, confirming the truth. Reinhardt Hoch was now a multi-millionaire. She dropped the datapad limply into her lap, making John howl as he listened to her mumble incoherently. _

"_Now as much fun as it may be for the two of us to blow through it as soon as possible, I was thinking of a different Idea. Interested?" He inquired._

_Numb, Galina looked up and nodded. _

"_I want you to help me open a company, specialising in streaming out the medical technology of quarians and making it properly accessible to humans. No more begging for help, no more relying on them, making them rich," Reinhardt explained as he changed lanes. "We'll start small; work on limb augmentation and replacement therapies. That industry is going to be booming when I get us off the ground. From there, the sky is the limits, sister. We can push the boundaries the Mandate corporations stick to. Whatever you want to work on, we'll explore: Biotic abilities, Neuron augmentations to create faster, more reactive quarians and humans, we can cure disease, control death if we want to. And you, my sister will have a voice in where we go with our destiny. Not just a voice, but a guiding voice."_

_Galina smiled shyly; she kind of liked what he said. "Second to yours, of course," she spoke rather slyly._

_John leaned back into his seat and looked over to her._

"_What do you say?" he asked her. "You and I conquer this world, then one day everything else."_

_Why don't Mother and Father know?" she suddenly inquired. "And… where did this money all come from?"_

_John groaned… he thought he would have a bit more time before Galina raised the question. He remained silent as he rubbed his brow._

"_They'll know soon enough… and the money… well... it's rather dirty…" He spoke delicately. Noticing Galina's stare, he added. "As in payment to former Nazis in return for supressing communist and socialist revolutions before they took hold in countries sort of dirty money." _

_Galina flinched and pressed her body against the door of the Porsche, her eyes staring wildly at John as though he was some sort of monster._

"_How did you- How could you…" Galina started sputtering. "this is disgusting! This isn't dirty money, this is blood money! A lot of people died for this, Reinhardt!"_

_The light flash red; Reinhardt came to a stop, pulled off his seatbelt and turned properly to face his sister, now nearly in a state of shock. Her moral outrage had overwhelmed all of her logic now._

"_I know that, Galina, I do," he promised Galina, who was now breathing erratically. "Think of it this way, 'lina. This money was destined to be used to inevitably spread more pain and suffering. The two of us in control of this money… we can change the world for the better. We can save this planet from its insanity, from the ailments that make the world a little bit worse every day. Wishes or prayers, even good intentions are nothing compared to the power of hard currency."_

_The light flashed green, giving John an opportunity to break the heart breaking gaze Galina was holding over him. He turned off the main road and drove up the winding pathway to their childhood home. _

"_Promise?"_

_The commitment that Galina was asking was spoken softly. Clearly she wanted to believe it, but she was still extremely nervous about committing to something with John, especially considering how he had only just got home. Slowing down, John looked to his sister, smiling reassuringly._

"_I swear to you, Galina," He spoke solemnly. "Everything we will do will fund a better future."_

_Galina's eyes darted back and forth John's face, looking for any sign of deception. There was not a trace. John made sure of it. Galina was young, naïve and very different compared to others. This was possibly a strain on her that she didn't need, but John trusted she would rise to the challenge in a few years, when she was finished her schooling and was ready to begin their work._

_Shuddering slightly, Galina raised her hand and rubbed the side of her neck. It took several long moments before she worked up her courage to look at her Brother directly._

"_I-I want Alexandria McKellan on this as well…" She spoke finally, her breathing shallow as she looked for any change in John's expression at the mention of his friend. "I… I don't think I can stand up to you all… all the time, b-but she can… a-and she would if you… you revert back to whatever you were with those criminals. She's in school in the Mandate… I could… I could c- call her and WE can talk about this!"_

_Galina fell silent as she turned away. She looked like she was going to be physically ill. Being defensive and protecting herself were things that she didn't really know how to do like the rest of the Hoch children. She could be very easily played by manipulators. Out of everything, it was his greatest regret to not be there for her in the last eight years. _

_Pulling the Porsche into the Hoch driveway, John came to an unceremonious halt. Killing the engine, he turned his focus to calming down his nearly hyperventilating sister. His hand pressed against her neck vertebrae, making Galina relax limply into her seat. _

_John had to admit, he was surprised that Galina had suggested Alexandria. She was going to be the next person he approached about it. Had the two of them kept in touch? It was difficult for her to make friends; then again it was difficult for Alexandria as well. Perhaps they were made for each other._

"_Clever little Galina, I should have known you'd say that…" John lightly teased, his words as soothing as they were the last time he comforted her when she was still young. "Alright then, we'll call her together and set something up. Just… breathe. I'm going to need you to protect me from Mother… I think she's going to skin me alive."_

_Galina looked up to him and gave John a high, nervous laugh._

"_N-no… she… she'll take your legs so you never leave us again. I-I'll help."_

_A car pulled up behind them as the brother and sister laughed together. It was a stretched limousine. There was some low mumbling in Khellish as the car doors slammed shut and high heels pounded the pavement as the car pulled out of the driveway and sped off. _

_John looked over and found that it was none other than his sisters, Haeva and Erika, looking like they themselves just came back from a war; their fabric and denim clothing along with their black thigh high fishnet stockings were torn in a way that told him that they did it themselves as a fashion statement, their hair huge and puffed from too much aqua net, their eyes were covered in sunglasses as they smoked cigarettes. The two of them were walking in a stagger, they were clearly hung over._

"_They went to go see Joy Divison in the UK for a day trip… That was a week and a half ago… Mother's going to be so angry," Galina muttered. She did not seem impressed with her much more wild siblings, who were pulling flasks from their mini –skirts and drinking in an a clear attempt to alleviate the pain of sobriety._

_John grinned at Galina as he quietly he got out of the car and let loose a loud wolf whistle, making the two girls spin around. There he stood, his arms outstretched. _

"_Really fucking classy girls, where in the hell were the two preppy girls I left behind?" He catcalled. "Oh God, please don't smell like vomit and shame; I still have to hug the pair of you!" _

_The cigarette in Erika's lips dropped from her mouth at the same time Haeva dropped her flask. The two of them shuffled over as quickly as their five inch heels could carry them. Their miserable expressions were wiped off their faces as they swallowed John into a group hug. John exaggerated his gag, as the scent of liquor fresh and old was on wafting over him._

_Pulling her lips of Reinhardt's cheek, Haeva pulled back, grinning widely at her Brother, her bright eyes examined John like Galina did. Breaking her kiss on his other cheek, Erika stepped back and headed to where Galina was standing shyly by the Porsche, watching the scene unfold and drug her to join Haeva and John._

"_Reinhardt, this is sooo fucking good!" Haeva exclaimed, as she messed up Galina's hair, making the teen squirm in annoyance. "Erika and I being gone for ten days are going to look infinitely better compared to you!"_

"_Or that perhaps you all are dead and you just don't know it yet."_

_The siblings froze at the cold voice and turned to find Father coming down the steps and stood there frozen halfway between the house and his children. The twins and John remained still. Only sweet Galina stepped forward and hugged her Father, which he returned, his sharp glare never leaving John's eyes, which did not blink under the immense pressure of his Father. _

_Easing out of the hug, Father whispered a polite dismissal to Galina in Khellish, which girl obliged, running the rest of the way into the house and slamming the door behind her._

_There was nothing but silence until Haeva stepped forward, her bright smile was produced as she batted her eyelashes like the daddy's girl she was._

"_Father, look whose home!" She said gesturing to her Brother. "It's John, after spending eight years with the Nazis you didn't get the chance to kill!"_

_Joachim Hoch turned his eyes from John and casted his glare on Haeva, who shrunk and hid behind Erika, whose expression formed into a sweet smile as she waved slightly at her Daddy. It did not sooth his rage._

"_You two degenerates get into the house now!" The Father barked at the girls, making them jump in place, adding, "And wash that shit off you!" _

_Smiling at their Brother for a brief moment, Haeva and Erika scampered past their Father, only pausing to collect the flask off the driveway. Like Galina, they slammed the door behind them. Unlike Galina, a torrent of screeching bansheelike Khellish greeted their arrival. It was Mother and she was absolutely PISSED. _

_Father ignored it and stepped forward. The anger was gone in his expression, used up more on the twins rather than him. With John, he just seemed… disappointed with him._

"_The only way your Mother and I knew where you were at was a message Ernst Kaltenbrunner sent to be on your omni-tool a few weeks after you left," Father spoke sadly. "All the son of a bitch said was 'I have your son.' "_

_John knew where this was going to lead to. He did not want to hear it; he did not have to hear it. He was an adult, speaking to an adult. _

"_I'm not here to fight you or engage in a debate. If you're working up the nerve to ask me if I regret what I did, you'll be sorely mistaken, Father," Was all John said, his voice as pleasant as he could keep it. Clapping his Father on the shoulder, he added, "Let's go inside. I have some news I want to break to Mother. You're invited if you feel like you want to hear it."_

_Winking playfully at his fuming Father, John strolled up the path to his childhood home. Life was going to be real good from now on._

**…**

* * *

**…**

"This is Sierra Seven Juliet out of Dresden, Greater German Reich, carrying Daedalus Industries VIP's to the Washington Summit; requesting landing at IAD, reaching landfall in four minutes. Confirm position, over."

_"Position confirmed Sierra Seven Juliet. Permission denied for Dulles International, there is no record of your flight identification allowed in civilian and military airspace of the United States of America and elsewhere across the union. Recommend you divert to international fueling stations on neutral Greenland and return to your point of origin, over and out."_

Groaning at her former countrymen's stubborn refusal to allow her clearance, Pilot Isabella Ochoa pulled back on the throttle of the ME-683c Hawk, a civilian variant of the Heer gunship vertical take-off and landing aircraft John Hoch had picked her up for twenty seventh birthday two years ago.

Although it might have been technically company property, she all but owned the sleek civilian transport, which, in an hour of dedicated work, could be turned into a gunship that severely outclassed the Apache's her friends flew before she left the United States in disgust. She spent four years in an F/A-18, -one of the first women to fly off aircraft carriers in a Fighter, even made it to Captain before being blacklisted during President Regan's administration because a relative she had back in Spain was high up in the Spanish fascist government.

To think that was a life she had wanted. Working as head of high level corporate security -essentially as John's bodyguard, and piloting for him had by far more perks then public service. A six figure salary, a month off paid vacation time to head back to Santa Clara every year, where she left her family. There was less bureaucracy and having an employer such as him was always interesting in some way or another. It was a far cry from service to country that she had originally intended to do.

Easing up on the stick as she throttled down, she unhitched her harness and activated the virtual intelligent auto pilot. Like the last hundred or so flight time and simulations. Handing controls to machine intelligence made her uneasy. Opening the sliding downs to the passenger compartment, she found John Hoch opening a small bag of cocaine and Miss Galina Hoch on her omni-tool talking to Daedalus Industries headquarters.

"How do you want to approach this, sir?" Isabella inquired, watching her employer chop up a line.

Snorting the powder, John wiped nose and rested his head back into the seat, ignoring Galina's eyes watching him carefully. He lolled his heads to the side as he allowed the illegal stimulate to kick in.

"They're bluffing," he muttered as he tucked the bag back into his jacket, "just do like I always do if I'm needed in the States, take the bird and land her on the helipad at 2300 M Street Northwest; I mean there still ought to be a VTOL or a helipad on the German embassy. Last time I checked it was German soil, they can't touch us there."

Feeling suddenly stupid that a coked up man knew what do while she was privately making plans to divert to Greenland, Isabella said, "shit...right… sorry sir."

John waved it off with a false smile and a hand gesture. He sniffed suddenly, a delayed reaction to the cocaine now flowing through his respiratory system. Rubbing his brow, a sly grin crossed his as he activated his omni-tool.

"Don't worry; I imagine an expatriate must have forgotten that."

The VTOL Passenger bay's speakers erupted into the blaring of a beat that sounded not much different than a machine firing in bursts combined with a drum. Isabella winced and tried to ignore the glaring electronic rock, John would, when sober, keep to himself. Not today it seemed, as he rolled his head back onto the edge of the headrest, his head banging in time with the beat.

Clearing her throat, Isabella bit the bullet. Alexandria was her friend as well. She knew that John's habits stemmed from whenever he was hurt or stressed, and here he was both hurt and stressed. Galina and her would have to keep an eye on him.

"If you don't mind me saying, I don't think cocaine is going to help you forget today."

John didn't look his head still moving in time.

"No, it sure as hell won't..." John agreed with her, his voice loud as he called out over the surround sound. "But it sure will take my mind off letting her rot like that!"

Wrinkling her nose at John's choice of music and sharing looks with Galina, who smiled, understanding Both Isabella's worry and annoyance, the ex-fighter pilot closed the sliding cockpit doors, leaving the siblings alone as she went to set course for the embassy.

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Another chapter down. I would have gotten out sooner, but then I became fascinated by the 'twins' Haeva and Erika. I'm going to have a lot of fun with them. mmm cute 80's metal chick with big hair, lol.  
**

**I have got a plan together for this story. It will be ten to eleven chapters long, not including an epilogue. The next Uplifted Arrival chapter is coming up. It's going to be good. The plot starts really moving in this Hanala heavy chapter after several chapters dedicated to Joachim being a miserable bastard. Should be out by Thursday.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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